


road to ruin (started at the end)

by bishopsknifepatrick



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: I love pain and suffering, M/M, but this was the better option, i should be studying, mY favourite thing to write, post Youngblood Chronicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 17:35:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13416210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bishopsknifepatrick/pseuds/bishopsknifepatrick
Summary: Patrick is recovering in the hospital after all...that shit?





	road to ruin (started at the end)

**Author's Note:**

> um enjoy? 
> 
> by that, I mean suffer with me

He could hear the repetitive beeps of a…heart monitor. Opening slowly, his eyes could only see a deep ocean of blur until they focused once more. 

His body felt achy. Similar to what he could only assume would be somewhat the equivalent of getting hit by a truck. He couldn’t feel his left hand at all. He looked down to the spot where his hand was supposed to be, but instead was replaced with a fresh white bandage. 

No one else was in the room with him. He collapsed back into the bed, trying to jog his memory, but completely drawing a blank. 

_What happened? Why? Where are his friends? Could this be some fucked up nightmare?_

But every time he tried pinching himself to wake up, he was still stuck here. In this dark, twisted reality. 

The hospital band around his right wrist was slowly becoming irritating to the skin beneath it, but he had no way of properly scratching it away. 

The slowly growing pit in his stomach felt as if it became the size of a party balloon with no way of popping it. He felt _useless_.

The door slowly creaked open, a familiar face poking their head in. “Hey, Patrick, you're awake!” he said as he opened up the door wider. 

“Pete?” 

“Yeah, it's me, buddy,” he said. Despite appearances, Patrick couldn't help but stare at his bandaged stump. Pete noticed immediately, “So, how are you feeling?” 

“I, uh, I don't really know,” Patrick said, bringing his head up again. He wanted to ask so badly, but he didn't want to know. He didn't want to know why he was down to one hand or what could have been bad enough for that to even occur. 

“Well, I'm glad you're here. I was almost doubting that you’d ever wake up,” nervous laughter filled his voice. 

Both of them couldn't form a sentence, awkward silence growing in the room. 

The nurse entered the room, cutting the tension between them. “Hello, I'm Warren and you must be Patrick, correct?”

“Yeah,” he practically whispered, reaching his hand up to brush his stray hairs back. 

“Are you feeling any pain?” 

“Not currently.” 

“Good, that means the meds are working,” after that, he went on to asking the regular hospital questions that were very cookie cutter at this point.

He jotted notes onto his pad. “Sounds good. Since you're awake now, we'll probably just perform a few routine exams to make sure you're okay, and then you could be released as early as tomorrow.”

Patrick didn't really have a response, so Pete stepped up, “That’s great, thank you.” They shook hands before Warren stepped out of the room. 

Pete looked at Patrick who had this very lost gaze in his eyes, not knowing where to go. He knelt down at his side, trying to be more cautious and make him feel less timid. Grabbing his hand, he said, “Tomorrow, we’re going to go back home and we’ll see Andy and Joe, and everything will…go back to normal.”  
Patrick nodded quickly, wanting that right now rather than having to stay in this isolating room for another day. 

Pete stayed at the hospital as long as he could before visitor hours were over and they made him leave, much to the distress of Patrick. 

He tried getting more sleep, but he laid there staring at the ceiling. Alone, scared, and worried were just a few of the range of emotions he felt. 

The next day dragged on. To be fair, Patrick was awake and thinking at 6:38 am. Pete was there shortly after 9 when visiting hours began again. They sat and watch daytime TV for three hours until the nurse came in and cleared Patrick to be able to go home. The place he missed the most. 

“I'm going to go sign your release papers and pull up the car, you take your time getting ready,” Pete said. He struggled the entire time, but miraculously pulled on his shirt and jeans. He was standing near the big window in his room, and looked out at the parking lot below. Memories started coming back, like a punch to the gut.

Pete walked back in, “You ready to go?”

Patrick turned around slowly, tears streaming down his face, “Did I…hurt you?”

“No, Patrick, it wasn't _you_. I know that.”

“But it was, I hurt you, Joe and Andy.” Pete tried to get closer to Patrick and console him, but he just backed away, 

“No, I don't want to hurt you again.”

“Don't think that, ‘Trick. You never would. _You_ never have.” 

He just stood, crying, scared, trying to wish away all of this. 

“Patrick…” Pete go closer, this time Patrick didn't jump away but succumbed to a hug. He had tucked himself away against Pete’s chest. He felt safe.


End file.
